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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771544">Paternal Instincts.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingollie/pseuds/kingollie'>kingollie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>At Dead Of Night (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Children, Drabble Collection, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Harvey tries to father his weird acquired son, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:08:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingollie/pseuds/kingollie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of little drabbles of varying lengths, focused primarily on the relationship between Jimmy and Harvey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy Hall &amp; Harvey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paternal Instincts.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Everyday I avoided proof reading and think about father figures</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1) Paperwork.</p><p>Rose hadn't noticed when her tiny Jimmy had shuffled off the confines of her lap, she was too fixated on the paperwork sprawled out in front of her, her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as she scrawled over the forms. She only noticed that the toddler had waddled off when Harvey let a grunt out from beside her - and Rose snapped her head to the right, watching with her breath catching in her throat as the man glanced down at the boy beside him, who's tiny fingers clutching the side of his slacks. </p><p>Jimmy hadn't interacted with men since... Hugo. Rose had a tumultuous relationship with trust and it had taken her months to even allow Harvey into the same room as her son, in fear of history reoccurring in the same grisly manner against all preventative measures. But eventually the man had nestled himself solely into her good books, and so now she was facing the next hurdle. </p><p>Harvey glanced down, seemingly nonchalant. </p><p>"Alright, little James?" He raised both brows, and the child giggled, lifting both arms up and flexing his digits in an apparent request. Harvey smiled, expression warming considerably. Then turned his chair away from the new computer monitor he was sat facing, craning down and scooping the boy up into his arms. Jimmy squeaked, seemingly delighted, as he nosed at Harvey, wrapping his stubby limbs about him as best he could. </p><p>Harvey reciprocated, patting the boy's back with gentle intention. Rose relaxed a substantial amount, turning back to her own paperwork. She could hear the endless murmuring from her son, the creak of Harvey's chair as he turned back to the monitor. It was as close to domestic bliss as she could imagine. </p><p>[ The computer monitor remained long after it stopped working, long after Jimmy had thrown out the actual computer. He liked it there: a snippet of a better time. ]</p><p> </p><p>2) Father's Day.</p><p>The perpetual scratch of Harvey's fountain pen upon the accounting documents filtered through the empty hotel lobby, creating a mundane ambience which only served to set Jimmy more at unease. Jimmy stood, peeking through the door to the office, an envelope clutched in one tiny fist.</p><p>"I can see you back there, Jimmy, what do you want?" The boy jolted, as though shocked on the spot as he was acknowledged, watching nervously as Harvey swivelled about on the chair to face him. His ginger brows were furrowed to a suspicious point, Jimmy fumbled momentarily, caught off guard.</p><p>"I, uh- wanted to give you this." Awkwardly he held the envelope up for inspection, picking his way into the office slowly (it was usually forbidden, as not to disturb whoever was in there). The envelope he presented was gaudy pink in colour, and across the front, in a year one's scrawl was the name: ' HARVEY ' emblazoned in all caps. Plus a few failed attempts at stars, as an awkward decorative flair. Jimmy watched the man's expression change slightly, lips twitching with a bewilderment that seemed to go beyond mild confusion, there was an uncertain warmth in the man's features.</p><p>"Well then, bring it here." Briskly doing as told, the boy crossed the room in a few bounds in order to stand alongside the desk, which he leaned upon awkwardly. Slowly, he lifted the envelope, and set it down in the other's view next to the neat stack of paperwork, Harvey paused to examine it through narrowed eyes.</p><p>"No funny business in here, right?"</p><p>"Nuh-uh." Jimmy shook his head, dark curls bouncing as he did so, Harvey took a quiet breath and picked up the envelope. </p><p>"Pass me the letter opener, then." The boy nodded, rooting through the top drawer to produce the ornate little weapon, it was one of the things which Harvey had brought with him into the hotel when he'd moved in - alongside the medieval display, which Jimmy also adored. There was something rather enthralling about the blunt blade, the intricacies of it, although he didn't have long to ponder on the thought, as Harvey tugged the letter opener from his grasp and ran it beneath the fold of the envelope with a brisk flick of his wrist.</p><p>Harvey set down the dull knife and turned to Jimmy, features still twisted inquisitively. </p><p>"What's the occasion, Jimmy?" He opened up the envelope, producing a card crudely cut from coloured craft paper, the edges were a little flayed from the shaky vigour of a five year old, it was dash with a handful's worth of glitter, most of which immediately drifted from the paper and into the tweed of Harvey's lap. The man's lips twisted slightly, although Jimmy seemed not to notice. </p><p>"Open it." Jimmy chirped, coming to rest his chin on Harvey's leg, looking up at him hopefully. </p><p>"You're awfully eager," Jimmy shrugged at the comment, and Harvey huffed a small sigh, "alright, opening." He opened the card, more glitter fluttering down onto his slacks which he had to subdue an eye roll at, his lips were pursed as he began to read over the chicken-scratch handwriting. Almost nervously, Jimmy shifted from foot to foot, watching the man digest the little message scrawled onto the page.</p><p>He had spent a significant amount of time mulling over the phrasing, and the card's creation had been prompted by a girl in his class mentioning her own Father's Day plans; ' I make my dad a card every year, don't you James? '. He had shrugged, and she snorted back something about him not having a ' real ' dad, anyway - and spite was a particularly powerful motivator for the boy. It read:</p><p>' To Dad, ' Harvey noted that his name had originally been in the greeting, although it was frantically scribbled out and replaced with the endearing label. Jimmy had never called him 'dad'; it was presumed and not enforced, yet seeing it here made his chest ache in a peculiar way. </p><p>' Happy Father's Day :) '</p><p>' I know that some people pretend that you are not my dad, but I think you are. '</p><p>' From Jimmy ' </p><p>Harvey was familiar with the sentiment. His family long since soured over how he harboured a bastard for a son, the word they slung at the child's back was thick with malice, the weight of Illegitimacy heavy upon it, like an accusation. It prickled with resentment: for him and for Jimmy, they collectively had managed to end the family's legacy. Harvey recalled scoffing at the implied allegations, features taut and barely containing his own furious hysterics when he sneered back: "he's lucky he's not continuing this bloody legacy, any child deserves better". Rose had pulled him away.</p><p>His family had avoided him since then, and Harvey was content to keep it that way. One second-cousin was the only bridge between him and everyone responsible for his upbringing, only because the young man took it in stride: "your boy's lucky Harv - he ain't got our ginger genes". And that was it. His boy, Harvey had laughed, swallowing down the warmth building at the concept, intent not to overwhelm the distant relative in such casual banter. His boy.</p><p>He had not played a part in conceiving Jimmy, but that felt irrelevant, he was the only father the boy had ever known. Would ever know. And the child had expressed similarly, albeit without much eloquence. </p><p>"Why are you crying?"</p><p>The sound of Jimmy's voice drew him from his reminiscing, and Harvey was suddenly very aware of the dampness upon his cheekbones, a dampness which he quickly daubed away with the cuff of his shirt. He let out a shaky sigh, turned to Jimmy properly, setting the card down upon the desk.</p><p>"I'm happy, Jim, to know what you think, is all." </p><p>"Oh." The boy tipped his head, stepping closer, looking almost bewildered at the response.</p><p>"C'mere." Harvey offered his arms, leaning down to meet Jimmy, who threw his arms about the man's neck and let himself be hefted into a proper hug, closing his eyes and sighing.</p><p>[ Jimmy had found the card in the bottom of the office's desk. He kept it in there. It hurt to display, but the thought of throwing it out hurt more. ]</p><p> </p><p>3) Nightmares.</p><p>Harvey awoke to an abrupt yelp of his name and the hot, violent pants of breath from a petrified child huffing against his forehead. Immediately he reeled up, body throwing him into an adrenaline ridden bout of movement, forehead almost colliding with the boy's, who was hauling himself onto the pillow the man had just been asleep upon. </p><p>"Jesus- shit! Jimmy! The bloody hell are you playing at?" He rasped the words out in a tumble of spits which he forcibly muffled as soon as his self-awareness kicked in, the last thing he wanted to do was wake anyone else up with such a jolt. His voice fell to a brittle hiss towards the end of his outburst, frustration at being stirred suddenly making him sound rougher about the edges, his unkempt rural Yorkshire accent thicker than usual. He barely had time to fully right himself against the headboard, when the six year old scrambled into his lap, atop the duvet, plastering his sodden face into the plaid of Harvey's night shirt. Jimmy snivelled loudly, dissolving into a blubbering mess of throaty hiccups and muffled sobs against the fabric, his dark hair was somehow even less tamed than ever - tangled from the throes of fear. </p><p>Harvey inhaled once, composing himself, and tried to quell the vicious thrumming of his heartbeat. As much as he wouldn't admit it aloud; Jimmy had given him quite the fright. He breathed out a shaking breath, then wrapped an arm about the little body quivering against him, slithering down from the straight angle he'd propelled himself into just prior.</p><p>"Jimmy." He lowered his voice, trying to mime the comforting warmth Rose could so easily conjure when addressing her son. Their son, he corrected himself internally, uncertain as to when that label had begun to apply. He'd consider it later, when said son gave him some time to think. "What's the matter, lad?" There was a snot-ridden sniffle upon his shirt collar and the boy looked up at him, and even in the dark, Harvey could make out how his skin was blotchy red from tears. His eyes bloodshot. Jimmy had been crying a long time before seeking out comfort, and that concept stung.</p><p>"I-I had a n-n-nightmare." The boy's tongue caught on syllables, riddled with anxiety and unable to form many coherent words, before he tucked his head back beneath the scuff of Harvey's jaw and resumed snuffling quietly. Harvey threw his other arm over top Jimmy, squeezed him, hoping it inspired some feeling of protection. </p><p>"S'alright," he murmured, "it wasn't real. You're alright." Jimmy let out another rattling sob and shook his curls, little palms coming to grasp at Harvey's shirt.</p><p>"It fuh-f-felt real." Harvey sighed, chest rising and falling in gradual movements as he momentarily considered his words. He was never good at this. Not like Rose; he fumbled over affection, could hardly find the phrases to compliment or comfort, he was better at displaying warmth through action, but that didn't feel as adequate in this circumstance. He lifted a hand and took one of Jimmy's own in his calloused palm.</p><p>"I know it did, Jim. But trust me when I say it can't hurt you now." He was met with the boy's strangely shifting eyes - he'd known Jimmy since before he was three and still couldn't pin a colour to his irises. Jimmy hiccuped, forcing back more tears, Harvey could see it in how his throat trembled with the effort. </p><p>"Y-you promise?"</p><p>"Swear on my life." Harvey offered a wry smile, and a glimpse of relaxation crept onto the child's features. Good. That was good. But then his mind fell to other concerns. "Why didn't you go to your mother?" He enquired, watching down the bridge of his nose as Jimmy shuffled to get comfortable.</p><p>"She's be-being weird." The child spoke against his shoulder, shifting close and curling into a foetal position atop his guardian's shirt. Harvey paused, then caught on. It was a Friday night (or Saturday morning now), he and Rose had been drinking on the off-hours, well into the dead of the night. She was probably still suffering from the residual effects of her drunken state. He had always sobered up quicker. He sighed, only to be cut off by his own sputtering.</p><p>Jimmy apparently needed to get comfortable by driving his elbow squarely between Harvey's ribcage as he moved, and the man grunted in pain, six or not, the force hurt. </p><p>"None of that." he grumbled, shifting onto his side so Jimmy slid off his chest and onto the bed next to him. "If you want to sleep here, no givin' me bruises, alright?"</p><p>"Didn't mean to."</p><p>"Good." He waited a beat, wondering if the boy would offer anything akin to an apology. When he didn't, Harvey continued. "You have a blanket with you?"</p><p>"Nuh-uh." The boy writhed about to settle down, pressing his face into the spare pillow and closing his eyes. Harvey sighed, turning away to examine the contents of his darkened bedroom for something that could substitute as one, in his peripheral, noting the way Jimmy opened one eye to watch him. The man's gaze befell the tartan dressing gown hung on the back of the door, that would do just fine; the material was thick and warm, the texture not offensive (unlike the tweed that comprised much of his wardrobe - how Jimmy despised hugging him when he was wearing a tweed jacket or slacks).</p><p>Harvey heaved himself from beneath the sheets, crossing briskly and silently to the gown, which he tugged off the hanger. He tapped the door closed with his toes while he was there, Jimmy having left it ajar upon entry. Harvey was incapable of sleeping with any amount of light prying into his room. Then he crossed back over to the bed, tossing the gown over Jimmy's body, allowing the boy to wriggle about beneath it and find his own way to get settled. He knew damn well that if he attempted to swaddle Jimmy himself, the little bugger would only fuss. </p><p>He shifted back to his own spot, and pulled the duvet over himself, laying on his back instead of his side, mostly to allow Jimmy to find a snug place against his flank. Harvey glanced over as Jimmy's movements grew more languid, the gown enveloped him up to his cheekbones and he looked content. </p><p>Harvey sighed, rolled his head away. Shut his eyes and-</p><p>"Harvey?"</p><p>"... What?"</p><p>"G'night. I luh-like this dressing gown."</p><p>"So do I, don't nick it." Harvey knew of Jimmy's propensity for taking items he liked; he did it often. The underside of the child's bed was a steadily accumulating pile of belongings, but Rose had forbidden Harvey from raiding it. Apparently Hugo had been inclined to break items of the boy's at perceived slights, Jimmy hoarded to cope on some subconscious level, he also only tended to steal from people he was amiable with. Harvey wondered if he should be flattered. Either way, he didn't want to lose this dressing gown. </p><p>"Tell you what Jimmy, when I've finished with the dressing gown, you can have it afterwards. Alright?"</p><p>The boy offered little more than a sleepy sound, but nodded dopily against Harvey's side, wild hair coiled about his head like a strange little halo. Harvey finally relaxed. </p><p>"Night, Jimmy."</p><p>[ Jimmy didn't keep the dressing gown under his bed, the tartan item was strewn across his duvet, it was an extra layer for the winter. It was a perpetual reminder. ]</p><p> </p><p>4) Frostbitten.</p><p>"He'll freeze out there, Harvey!"</p><p>"He bloody well deserves to after the stunt he pulled with the doctor's sandwich- little sod!"</p><p>"The poor thing doesn't need to get hypothermia-! I-" Rose waved her hands frantically, brows pinched in palpable distress, she paced the length of the lobby on shaking legs. Then turned, features taught with fear back to the stubborn man still situated behind the front desk. When he looked marginally too apathetic, she turned nervously on the spot. "Harvey, I forbid you keeping him out there a moment longer, look at the state of it!" She pointed at the glass front door with a trembling digit, and for the first time in a while the man glanced up from the desk before him. His expression warped a little when he noticed just how vile the weather was. </p><p>Jimmy had been out in that for enough time to constitute punishment, Harvey figured, it was of the boy's own doing of course. In an effort to shirk any repercussions for getting his psychiatrist sent to the GP with a mouthful of glass shards, Jimmy had eluded the wrath of his mother and Harvey by loitering about outside, hiding in the shrubbery and fleeing when spotted. Rose had a nasty temperature, and had been sternly told to remain inside, leaving only Harvey to collect Jimmy when necessary. He hadn't, of course. </p><p>The boy probably knew damn well by now not to pull the same shtick, or so the proprietor hoped. Besides, he had better things to do than scour the grounds for the unruly hellian; although it seemed the 'better things' would be taking a backseat whilst he collected Jimmy now.</p><p>"Fine," His tone was curt, "give me a second to throw on my coat and grab a brolly, I'll go wring him out." He shut the logging book with a decisive thump, and immediately crammed the thing into a filing box, then heaved himself up from his chair with a grunt. "That snob in 304 was meant to have left at noon, you may want to check and see if she's actually made the effort to move." </p><p>"Okay," The woman let out a steadying breath, "okay. Will do. Thank you." She took a moment, still loitering beside the desk to ensure that Harvey was collecting his parka from the back office, but once she heard the distinctive rustle of waterproof clothing, Rose took her leave with evident relief. </p><p>Harvey emerged from the room, clad in a green coat, the hood of which he tugged over his thinning ginger hair preemptively, the last thing he needed was to get soaked too. Then, he crossed the room to the front door, plucking an umbrella from the coat rack as he went -- it was too late in the evening for anyone to be leaving, and he was only borrowing it, the owner surely wouldn't notice. He moved briskly, opening the glass door and stepping into the porch. He used the vantage point to scan the scenery through the window for any signs of Jimmy. He saw little movement amongst the cluster of parked cars, besides the constant writhing of the undergrowth in the wind. </p><p>Groaning to himself, the man stepped out into the furious bluster of northern winds and the violent gusts of rain, which dashed his coat forcefully enough for Harvey to wince a little. He hadn't kept track of how long it had been like this, but felt an inkling of guilt needle him as he stepped further into the carpark. Despite assuring himself that Jimmy was a smart enough boy to find shelter, whether or not he chose to was another ordeal altogether; often the child would intentionally put himself into harm's way to garner sympathy from his mother. Hopefully he had enough sense to not do as much this time.</p><p>Harvey opened the umbrella, and stepped further into view, silhouetted by the yellowed lights of the building behind him, then cupped one hand about his mouth.</p><p>"JIMMY!" He bellowed into the howling of the wind, inclining his head to pick up any sounds to indicate the boy's whereabouts. "C'mere you silly bugger - You'll freeze if you stay out here any longer!"</p><p>When he got no response, Harvey stepped further into the wind, features screwed up against the force of the weather. He swung his head about, eyes narrowed, squinting through the barrage of raindrops of any signs of a spite-filled, soaked Jimmy </p><p>"Don't be stupid! Where are you?" He used the hand not clutched at his meek shelter, to jab at the ground by his feet. Still nothing. </p><p>He had begun to pace up towards the front gates, still shifting his gaze restlessly, when he caught sight of Jimmy - luckily the boy didn't seem keen on parading around in the rain, as he was wedged alongside some old Cadillac. Sat on the gravel and just out of the worst of the rain and wind, he spotted Harvey as soon as the man caught sight of him. Both of them froze. </p><p>"-Jimmy." There was a stern note in the man's voice, and apparently even Jimmy appeared to note its gravity, as he drew himself up on shaking legs and scurried to meet him beneath the umbrella. </p><p>Harvey sighed at the state of the child: his curly hair sat plastered in soaked clumps against his head, his clothes were thoroughly drenched, skin far paler than usual. Despite any ire between them, the instinctive sympathy he felt for the sodden boy overtook immediately. "Alright," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "up you come."</p><p>Lowering himself onto his knees with a grunt and the click of joints, Harvey opened one arm in an offer of comfort, something he probably wouldn't do if Jimmy had seemed less bedraggled. Recognising as much, the eleven year old quickly scooted in close, allowing himself to be hooked about the lower back and hoisted up. Harvey stood, Jimmy settled in the crook of his arm, the boy leaning in and pressing his wet hair to the man's chin in a way which was almost certainly purposeful. Harvey made no complaint and instead marched the both of them back to the front door, closing the umbrella with one hand and shaking it clear of rain. </p><p>"Stay in here for a bit, while I get you a towel, all right?"</p><p>"Mmhm."</p><p>Harvey stepped into the porch and placed Jimmy down, still hunkered on his haunches before him. A visible cringe toying upon his lips as the boy remained completely rooted to the spot, splatters of rain pooling beneath him, trembling like a leaf, there was a frigidity emanating from him. The man pushed back some of the child's soaked hair with a palm, meeting the exhausted eyes beneath. He sighed. </p><p>"Get that jacket off too, fat load of good it's doing you." He only got a nod in response, as Jimmy reached up to pull off the denim jacket he wore atop his t-shirt. "I'll be right back." </p><p>Harvey stood, and crossed into the lobby with brisk movements (making sure to return the umbrella first), heading to one of the storage cupboards adjacent to the kitchen. It was the ratty, unkempt one with a smaller, personal boiler inside of it - and amongst it's disorganised shelves usually contained a multitude of linens and soft towels, kept in case their more recent supply dwindled. Much to his relief, it meant he didn't have to breach the hotel's floors and potentially encounter chatty guests whilst scouring for towels. </p><p>He wobbled up onto his toes, bringing down a couple of fluffier looking ones, that he quickly crammed beneath his left arm. There was a moment of hesitation, where the man wondered if he should also gather an old dressing gown of his and swaddle Jimmy in that too. But he decided that it would come later, right now his main intention was to prevent any substantial damage to arise from the boy being caught outside. If Jimmy caught anything worse than a minor cold, Harvey knew he would be in for it. </p><p>He was quick on his way back, towels rammed close to his body, he tapped open the front door with a foot. Jimmy looked rather the tragedy; sodden and shivering. </p><p>"C'mere you silly bugger. Let's get you warm." The boy stepped close, allowing Harvey to ruffle his hair with a towel, beginning the process of fixing him up a little. Although the rain still pelted the doors, it was pleasant inside the hotel that night. </p><p>[ The guest never did collect the umbrella. Jimmy kept it alongside the counter nowadays, in case someone was caught in the rain. ]</p><p> </p><p>5) Midnight Meeting.</p><p>The last time Harvey ever recalled amiability between him and his son, it was a day prior to the accusations upon doctor Bose.</p><p>Harvey was sweeping over the stage, clearing off the worst of that night's confetti when he heard one of the large doors leading into the room swing open with a pronounced creak. He twisted to face the noise, only to be met with the silhouetted figure of Jimmy, hands stuffed into his pockets, features twisted in the low light.</p><p>"Alright Jimmy? Bit late for you to be up, isn't it?"</p><p>A shrug. The boy crossed the room upon lean legs, almost immediately hopping up onstage alongside Harvey, he opened his mouth, closed it. Glanced about. And the man squinted a slight, ginger brows pinched to a point.</p><p>"What's the matter?" Jimmy shrugged again, shuffling his feet in apparent discomfort. Then he glanced up, expression ambiguous as he met the other's eyes. There was something strangely resolute in his gaze. Then there was a moment of considerable tension, Jimmy stepped close, resting his forehead against Harvey's shoulder.</p><p>It was alarming, how quickly he was shooting up, barely thirteen and yet he was catching up to Harvey's own height with a sudden vigour.</p><p>"I love you, dad." In the cold of the grand hall, with the constant ambience from the house lights above, Jimmy's soft display of seemingly abrupt affection was almost inaudible. But Harvey heard, blinked, and raised one hand to pat down some of the boy's curls, smoothing them back with carefully carding fingers. Jimmy rarely portrayed much warmth nowadays, unless it was directed at Rose, Harvey felt something in his throat clench.</p><p>There was a finality to the words.</p><p>"I love you too." He murmured, mustering as much vocal sincerity as possible, he was never one for words. "I'm here Jim, if you need me, you know I'm here." A nod against his shirt, Harvey sighed. "Go on up to bed, I need to make sure the stage is all cleared up."</p><p>The boy turned and walked away. He didn't look back. Harvey retreated backstage.</p><p>[ Jimmy hated the stage. He swore he could still smell his father's blood clinging to it. ]</p>
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